The return of the silmaril
by Glondra
Summary: By the will of Eru Illuvatar, Angel, daughter of Arathorn and sister of Aragorn Elessar, Fëanor, with his sons Turin Turambar,Nienor Are being summend by the counsil of doom. they must live together to prove themselves. Angel claims to have the silmarills. being tested by past evens and threats from outside they have to put aside there differences and work together
1. The halls of Mandos

I dont own all the characters, they belong to J.R.R Tolkien and J.K Rowling.

I apologize if the spelling and translation are not good, I have tried to extract all possible errors, if there is something to criticize his tell me please,

enjoy reading

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H1 The halls of Mandos

 **Hall of waiting, Fëanor Curufinwë:**

Eternally had he been imprisoned in these halls. But he was still not released. Fëanor angrily walked through the empty halls of Mandos, the Valar, his cape draped behind him and his armour shone in the light of a candle which stood along the wall. The Hall of Mandos it was called, the last place where the children of Eru were going when they died, but all the families were separated.

And there he was, Fëanor, son of Finwë, spirit of fire, in the halls of Mandos himself to stay there until the end of time for his actions against his own people and the children of Ilúvatar.

Now, he could only stare at the walls that were covered with rugs, made by his mother, Míriel, the first wife of King Finwë before she rested her body and her mind to the halls of Mandos, left him astray, and Finwë married again .

There was a picture of the two trees in their glory and the three Silmarils that had been made by him, but also the theft by Morgoth; He was first called Melkor, but Fëanor named him Morgoth, the Black Enemy. And every time he looked at the tapestry, his eyes shoot fire because of him his precious jewels disappeared.

"Are you watching the walls again, Curufinwë?"

He did not even hear him, so deep was Fëanor sunk in thought, and the footsteps of an elf were soft, and yet he knew who it was, without looking up he answers.

"No, father. I was just lost in thought and suddenly came upon this rug". And he nodded toward the carpet of Morgoth who held the tree silmarils in his hand. He hated the man, the Vala who had killed his father and stole the Silmarils.

Suddenly his eyes where pulled to a new rug that he had not seen before. A young girl with long black hair and green eyes was fighting with a sword against Sauron; Morgoths lieutenant and follower, and on her back seemed to grow white wings.

Now it was Fëanor's attention, people could not fly; knowing presence, but this child seemed to be. "What is this for demonic art?"

Finwë walked slowly to his son. When Fëanor didn't look but continued to stare at the wall and set his eyes on another robe, he walked up to him, standing next to him and looked at the rug attention.

"This is Angel," said Finwë, smiling at his son. "She is a distant descendant of us."

That looked as Fëanor of, how could they be related to a girl with wings, the sons and daughters of his half brothers were sometimes married to a fairy for his sons in any case. He had the strong suspected that his father didn't told him everything.

'I suspect that you are not telling me everything, Father. "Fëanor spoke softly, his grey eyes looked at the man that he loved so much.

Finwë looked the other way. How could he tell his son without making him angry?

"We are told that this girl is a distant descendant of Melkor, the Vala."

"SHE IS WHAT?" Fëanor's voice echoed through the deserted corridors. "A descendant of Morgoth? Father, how did that happen and why she has not stopped? I knew that the Valar apart heels. They even Morgoth's rabble run around. I bet she is currently working on her master's work to continue and the three Silmarils to demand. "

His eyes flashed and cursed the girl on the canvas. Finwë looked a Distress heart to his beloved son, what he had done.

"CURUFINWË," it came slowly and almost quietly on Finwës lips, but so hard that Fëanor got scared. His father never dared to raise his voice against him. While the man chose his words carefully. he took a step closer to his son. "You don't know this girl, and from what I've heard from Lord Mandos, she is on our side and not on the side of Melkor, guarded now by Eärendil, together with one of your Silmarils, the other two are by your oldest sons in the heart of the earth and thrown into the deeps of the sea. This will only be taken up again after the last stroke has occurred. And you know it. "

Fëanor said nothing. his face looked like a storm cloud that was written all over his beautiful elven face.

Would he ever met the girl during his stay in the halls of Mandos, he would tell her once what he thought of her and her master, because in his heart he would swear that this girl was a winged monster of Morgoth.

 **Spirit world, Túrin Turambar:**

Peaceful, yes he would describe it. A green lawn with a stream that ran under a bridge spread across the hills. The borders of Dor-lómin; his home. Here was Húrin Thalion, son of Galdor the master, and his wife Morwen Eledhwen.

Here in the space beyond the EA, the world, the place where mortal men went after their death. On the day he arrived there, after he had been stripped his self of his life, all his problems seemed to fade away and he lay on his back in the grass and the sound of birds singing in his ears. He was home.

'Túrin, big brother,'

Túrin Turambar looked up; the sound of his younger sister made his heart beat faster and filled his ears as the singing of birds.

"Come, father, mother and sister Niënor are waiting for you."

Long wild stress of blond hair flew through the air as the young girl moved towards the man and grab his hand, she was not older than three years, but older she was not, she died when she was only three years when there was a plague about Dor-lómin came and they both got sick. Two small warm hands closed around the big hands and pulled him to his feet. "Come on." She cried again. Her laughter filled the heath and it sounded like running water.

"Take it easy, Lalaith.'Túrin laughed when the girl tugged at his hand. Lalaith, as she was always called " which meant Laughing,". the same as the river that flowed beside his father's house in their youth.

"What is it that is so urgently to be so happy about?" With a heavy heart Túrin stood up and walked hand in hand along with his sister.

"I'm not telling you, 'giggled Lalaith. "You have to see it." And then she felt silent.

"Ah, Túrin, my son," Húrin looked up as Túrin walked to him drawn by his daughter Urwen, by everyone called Lalaith. 'I am glad you are here. There is news for you."

Húrin stood watching with a broad grin at his son. Though the five of them where for two and a half Era in the spirit world behind EA, he couldn't stop himself from smiling every time he saw his children. He met his daughter Niënor a long time ago, who was born after his imprisonment by Morgoth and was glad that he could finally take her in his arms.

Quickly he stepped down on Túrin and held him in his arms. Húrin was smaller than Túrin and his hair was blond and while Túrin was black haired, but his face was more grief than that of his son, because he had seen the darkness and torment Morgoth had thrown over him during his captivity in Angband.

"I just had a visit from Manwë the ruler of Arda. And…'

"Manwë?" His head lifted Túrin looked into the face of his father in the hope he was joking. "What does Manwë has to do here?" Since when does the lord of Arda came to the spirit world.

"Lord Manwë," began Húrin, still smiling. 'told me that Ilúvatar had chosen a select number of people to go to another place to help a descendant of us, or from your cousin then, Tuor, and he has chosen you and Niënor to participate. '

There Túrin looked really well, Niënor standing next to him looked surprised. Her eyes went from Túrin to her father and back again. 'me?' she asked in a squeaky voice. "What can I offer the Lord of Arda?"

But Húrin just smiled and said nothing while Lalaith danced around them.


	2. the call of Manwë

All the characters belong to J.R.R Tolkien and J.K Rowling,

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H2 the call of Manwë

Manwë Súlimo watched with eyes closed in front of him. His long silver hair hung down his face while the wind caressed his cheeks, and the glow of the sun shone through the window, and filed the room with a orange glow. Since the beginning of time he was lord and king of Arda and he followed the command of Eru. But now there came a message from Eru which Manwë silently sat on his throne.

He had to retrieve the human Túrin, son of Húrin, the black sword and slayer of Glaurung from the spirit world together with his sister Niënor. Of which he had no trouble with and had sent a message to Húrin, their father.

And yet, Manwë thought for a moment about its decision of the spirit world, the spirit world He named it so because he had no other name for that place. He also never understand why Eru had ever left people to die, why was their fate so much shorter than that of the elves?

"Do not even think about it, Manwë," he said to himself. "the great Ilúvatar wanted it that way and so it shall be done."

Then Manwë stood up, turned his blue eyes through the window to the outside as he moved forward and his cloak floated behind him. There was something else that bothered him; the release of Fëanor had been a shock to him when Eru told him. Why would he release the elven prince from the halls of Mandos if he still hadn't learned from his mistakes. Fëanor was stubborn and proud and ,would he ever being set free; then he would simply continue the search for his forged jewellery that where now in a place where they were meant for. In the Air, Earth and Water.

A small sigh left Manwë's lips, he was never a bad person and was willing to forgive anyone, because evil was something he had never understood, not even when it took a shape his own brother, Melkor, who was named Morgoth by everyone, the black enemy.

And again a sigh left Manwë's lips as his eyes looked at the fields of Valinor from his mountain high in the sky where eagles build their nests and the air stormed and raged.

And then as if Eru again spoke to him he put his thoughts into action. Fëanor and his sons would appear tonight before the council of doom.

But there was one thing he did not understand, Angel, Daughter of Arathorn. Manwë was off his throne seen a lot and heard of her, when his wife was sitting next to him he saw more.

Eru ordered him that she had to come to Valinor, but never had a mortal put a foot on the island that now was hidden from view.

"Use your eagle to send a message Mithlond," Eru's voice spoke in his head. "The rest will follow, be sure that the way to Valinor is open for her."

And while Manwë thought about those words Angel, sister of Aragorn, was still asleep.

But was anything except pleasant.

In her home, somewhere beyond the borders of London and away from muggels, Angel lived happily with her husband and children. Twelve years has past since Angel had left hogwarts behind. Now she was a police officer in New york, something not everyone could understand.

But these morning would be different.

"Mama, mama," the sound of two children screaming down the hallway penetrated Angels ear. The clock on the nightstand next to her hit ten o'clock, sighing Angel hoisted herself up from her bed and looked ahead. Her head throbbed and her throat felt dry, she had already through up last night and she knew what that meant.

'Another pregnancy ahead. "With a sigh, she let herself fall back into the bed before being mobbed by her older children. A boy and a girl, twins, both brown to black hair and bright green eyes exactly as her, but also looked a little like her brother, Elessar Aragorn, King of Gondor.

"Mama," the little girl of 8 years old pulled up Angel. "Come on, Dad says we have breakfast. And there is mail for you. "

With a sick feeling that Angel had felt a few times she turned her legs over the bed. She did not get up, but she knew that, if she didn't, Draco would then have come himself to get her.

"Tell your father that I'll be right there."

But her children didn't move and were just sitting on the bed watching her with puppy eyes.

"Mom, are you okay?" This time it was the turn of her son to say something. "You look so pale, you are not ill, are you?"

"Should we get Daddy?" The girl slid gently off the bed and before Angel also could say anything the girl down roared the hall: 'Daddy daddy, you should come, Mommy is sick. " turned and ran back to her mother. Her long brown hair slipped down her face as she grabbed Angel's hands. "Do not worry mom," she said. 'Everything will be fine.'

"And if Dad can't help," Her son now crawled onto the bed, "Then we pick up uncle Aragorn, I bet he knows something to make you better."

Angel could not help it, she laughed at the apprehension of her children, if they have them but could tell she was probably again expecting a child. "my son and daughter Listen up..." she began but otherwise they did not because in the hallway could be heard footsteps rapidly moved through the corridor.

"Children, what's going on here." Sweaty and a hand in his side Draco Malfoy stepped in the bedroom. His blond hair was scattered across his face and his eyes bulged out. His gaze went to his son and daughter, who sat next to Angel on the bed, to Angel, his wife. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep she'd had her hair and hung in all directions, as if they had fought while its wings had let loose on her against a dragon.

"Okay, you two, go on ahead to your brothers, Mommy and Daddy will be right there."

With a thumb at the door Draco motioned his son and daughter to leave the room, but it still took ten minutes before they actually went down, they continued to hold their mother's hand firmly positioned.

Draco was now next to his wife sitting on the bed while she picked up her socks from the ground.

"Okay sweetie, what's wrong?" it was not a normal question and Angel knew that all too well. But she pretended she didn't understand him, instead she picked up her socks and began to put on her clothes.

"What's the matter? I don't think I understand you, dear. If you mean there is something wrong, I can tell you that I'm fine." She managed to conjure a smile on her face and pulled her husband's feet. "The only thing wrong with me is that I'm very hungry and that I will be like a hobbit still going to start a second breakfast when I'm done with the first."

And for this Draco had to laugh hard, after at least 11 years after their last school year, he was glad that Angel had never really changed, Yes she was more serious, but a teenager still in her school there and he was grateful. Quickly he put an arm around her shoulders and pressed her against him.

"I'm glad that after all these years you are still the same.' And he gave her a kiss on her neck, but before Angel could react, they were all in the kitchen. The smell of toasted sandwiches urged Angels nostrils and her mouth started watering. She quickly grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, Draco soon followed her example and gestured to his sons and daughter that they could begin.

The rest of the first half hour was not mentioned there, and the only sound was the clink of knives and spoons, until Draco suddenly remembered that there was a letter for Angel came in and he handed her the letter. "This morning came in, I think it's Aragorn, but it is not his handwriting."

Angel, who had no idea who it could disks, put her knife down and took the letter, the envelope was still closed and she quickly makes him open with her forefinger, pulled out the letter and read it in mind.

This letter was indeed not from Aragorn, but it shocked Angel when she saw the signature and name below the letter.

This letter came from Manwë.


	3. A letter from Manwë

H3 letter Manwë

Angel stared with open eyes to the letter in front of her as if she couldn't believe what she just read.

Dear Lady Angel, Daughter of Arathorn and sister of Aragorn Elessar,

My name is Manwë,

I am employed by Eru Valar, Ilúvatar, whose name you probably have heard.

I want to invite you the land of Aman beyond the great sea for a meeting,

The council of Doom expects you tomorrow at 12.00 afternoon.

We have prepared a ship for you from the grey haven in Lindon.

We will sent someone to meet you when you arrive in Aman.

Yours sincerely,

Manwë Súlimo. Lord of Arda.

"And?" Draco's voice penetrated Angels ears inside. "Whose is it, it is from Aragorn?" His gray eyes looked Angel questioningly and his hand reached forward.

Manny questions shifted trough his head. 'What's going on, what does Aragorn want from you, are you being summoned. And why are you so pale'

While Angel read the letter it was Draco cases that Angel with the count became pale. Her cheeks went from pink to white, her eyes were glassy and her face began to be clammy with sweat.

But Angel did not respond, she just kept staring at the letter, Manwë, the Valar had called her to go to Valinor, but that was the immortal countries, no one except the elves went that way.

"No it is not from Aragorn," she muttered, without looking up. "It is Manwë, the lord of Arda."

"The lord of Arda? 'Angels daughter looked at her mother for a moment, then averted her gaze on her father. "Who is that and what does he want from Mom?"

But all Draco could do was shrug his shoulders, he was still not completely familiar with all the histories and peoples of Middle-Earth.

Merlin's beard. It went through his head, what are you talking about?

"I am summoned by the council of doom, I am expecting tomorrow afternoon around twelve o'clock at the Grey Havens, where a boat brings me to the immortal lands. And that is all. "

'The Grey of what sweetie?, what is going on, you're acting very strange. "

"There's nothing going on, Draco," Angel picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. The warm liquid slid down her throat, the taste of liquorice tickled on her tongue, but when she swallowed Angel felt how her stomach tightened and bubbling up, rushing the cup back on the table, Angel made a dash for the bathroom .

In the kitchen it was equally silent. Draco's daughter tugged at her father's sleeve. "Father, are you all right ?, Mom was very pale this morning, is she gonna to be alright? '

"Yes, Angel," Draco answers his daughter's anxious question while he held her hands, "Everything is okay, I'll check with your mother." And before he walked out of the room he looked at his oldest son. "Aragorn you watch your brothers, while I'm away!"

"Yes, Dad," answered the boy while he straightened his shoulders. With one last look at his children Draco ran after Angel.

Several thoughts penetrated his head, though it was not so difficult for him to guess why his wife suddenly ran away from the dining table. Over the past eight years, he had four times made the same with. And this time it was firmly struck again. A child attendance, one that would uphold the Malfoy name and the blood of Númenor would pass. Draco's eyes sparkled at the thought and his heart was in his throat. He and Angel had been blessed with eight wonderful children, all twins, where the oldest two were a boy and a girl, the other six after hem were all boys. But he still hoped for a girl.

Now he quietly walked into the bathroom, the large white walls glistened in the light of the chandelier, to his right stood a large bathtub with a crystal faucet and left a white sink in the shape of a leaf.

Angel wanted to have a sink in the shape of the leave of Lothloriën when they were building the house, it reminded her of her journey trough Middle-Earth and he had agreed to it.

"Angel?" Silently, he walked in and saw his wife's back turned to him, her head hanging over the toilet. "Is it that time again?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked forward and knelt down to her right. "Is there another little one on the way?" His gray eyes looked at Angels eyes as he held her face with both hands. Of course there was a child, flashed through his mind. stupid question.

"Yes," answers Angel, as she looked at her husband and wiped her mouth with a piece of toilet paper, which she then flushed away down the toilet. "Do not worry, I'm fine. I think a child growing again. "Quickly she stood up and looked at Draco and smiled. 'Everything is good. I'm used to it after four pregnancies. And I've made it a bit more than this. "

With a wink, something Angel often did. She smiled. "I think this is going to be a long time. But I wonder what Manwë needs of me. "

And with that Angel and Draco looked at each other in silence. For what was the lord of Arda now Angel that he is her mortal to the island Aman called for a meeting. Because not every mortal ever was summoned to appear in front of the council of doom, only Eärendil, Angels ancestor had ever succeeded. But not thereafter, and there was no story that anyone had ever visited the island after him.

Angel was now at war with herself. Would she go, would she dare to accepted Manwë's offer. There were rumours that she was a descendant of Morgoth. Would they arrest her and lock her op with Morgoth?

"Shall I go?" It was not a question, but Angel wanted her husband to know if it was a good idea.

"Yes," came the reply. "If you do not, there'll come back a letter and who knows," Draco smiled briefly as he drew Angel into the hallway, "Maybe you see your old friends again. Were they not gone to that place, about five years ago? And you do not want to see them? Go to Valinor and then see how you come in Aman. "He put his mouth to her ear. "I'll look after the children." Whispered Draco before he kissed Angel repeatedly in her neck.

'You are great.'

The smell of the sea penetrated deep into Angels nose as she walked into the gray port. The white washed buildings of the ancient kingdom of the Noldor rose past her, tall towers that once were part of a large country during the first era, thousands of years ago, and that was one of the few areas of the region the War of Wrath had survived. Angel made a note to herself, to learn about the great countries that where swallowed by the sea.

But when a large white ship before her loomed and Círdan greeted her, Angel knew that she had to wait about Middle-Earths history.

"What will I find there?" She asked the old elf.

But Círdan shrugged his shoulders and guided her to the boat and signed to the wheelman. "I don't know, my Lady. And you don't have to be afraid of Manwë, Lord of Arda. He is not ill-disposed. Goodbye and may Varda illumine your path. "

Then he walked back to shore while the white ship set sail, and slipped through the water toward the sunset in the land of the Valar.


End file.
